Pulling on a String

Fickle as the mind

Ticking around the clock out of time

Gentle spines

They’re twisted out of line

You only want what I want

You only have what I have

Which is nothing, nothing, nothing much yet

Nothing much yet

Walking to find

A place to bump into, to pause and smile

To tell all the others that I’m pulling all my strings

Every night, every night they bleed

Down by the gutters collecting all my things

Every night, every night it seems

You only want what I want

You only have what I have